


The Case of the Missing Biscuits

by craterdweller



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Cookies, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13003002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craterdweller/pseuds/craterdweller
Summary: Mrs. Hudson bakes Christmas biscuits for her boys.





	The Case of the Missing Biscuits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitmerlot1213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitmerlot1213/gifts).



> Thanks to [haldoor ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/haldoor/pseuds/haldoor) for the beta. All mistakes are mine despite her best efforts!

Martha Hudson opened one bleary eye to peek at the red digital display of her clock radio. Five a.m. It seemed like a good idea yesterday morning, to wake up before dawn and start baking the Christmas biscuits. But that was before the boys’ antics had kept her up until well past midnight. She sighed and dragged herself out of bed. The boys deserved a proper Christmas. She had driven to market yesterday and obtained all the ingredients in addition to a small turkey and all the makings for the fixings.  Entering the kitchen after rushing through her morning ablutions, she set up the automatic drip coffee-maker. She chuckled as she recalled the surprise of her American friends when she served them a decent cup of joe her first time hosting the book club. Of course, those same ladies had turned her out when her husband … She stopped that thought. Today was not the day to reflect on days past. 

_Okay, let’s see, where to start? Perhaps the snowflakes._ Setting her iPad on the new stand she’d purchased just yesterday, she pulled up the first recipe _. Sugar, flour, one egg, honey, vanilla extract. Doesn’t sound too bad._ Forty-five minutes later, she was pleased to set the first batch to baking. Okay, so maybe easy wasn’t the correct word for her achievement so far. Someone should have mentioned the whole sticking to the biscuit cutter thing. But she’d managed. And if there were only half as many biscuits as the recipe stated, well, this was just the first batch. She scratched an itch on the bridge of her nose, unaware of the swatch of flour she left behind.

_What’s next? Perhaps the orange and cardamom._ _Egg yolk, more flour, more butter, cardamom._ _Blast, the oven needs to be cooler than the first batch._ She took a deep, calming breath. _That’s fine. I’m sure the oven can cool. But maybe I should pull up all the other recipes and bake according to temperature?_ So pistachio and cranberry next, followed by chocolate pecan and lastly, the gingerbread men _._

She smiled as she pictured her boys reaction to the gingerbread people. Sherlock would have a snarky comment, she was sure, while John would politely sneak one, embarrassed but secretly pleased at the reminder of his childhood. 

Hours later, her kitchen looked as if it had survived one of Sherlock’s “gas leaks”, but she had a fair number of biscuits cooling on their racks. Of course, she also had a fair amount of flour strewn on the countertops and floor. Not too mention all the tools and Pyrex that needed washing. 

She pulled up the last recipe on her iPad, brushing off stray flour from the screen. Good thing the butter would clean off with a bit of screen cleaner. Might as well set some of these to soaking, she decided after poking some of the hardened mixture in one the earliest bowls. After setting most of the mess to soak in a basin full of sudsy water, she reached for the muscovado sugar. There was a splash followed by a bit of profanity. Bollocks!  _ Maybe there is a substitute? _ Unfortunately, as she wasn’t much for baking, she didn’t have any of those ingredients on hand either. Well, she did find a box of brown sugar, but it had completely solidified into a solid chunk. She banged the box on the countertop, but it only made more of a mess. Grabbing her keys off the hook by the door, she jumped into her Aston Martin. She loved that car; the one good thing that had come from her marriage.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock paced the short length of the sitting room, while John sat at the writing desk making the final revisions to the  next article for his blog. Their last case had some interesting twists, some of which were quite amusing. He knew his readers would appreciate his diligence in the timely update. 

Crack. Thump.

He glared at his companion, his concentration once again broken. “Will you sit down! What has you so agitated today?”

Sherlock pulled out his pocket watch. “Just as I thought.”

“What?”

“Have you heard Mrs. Hudson making that infernal racket? Or pop in to bring us tea?”

Watson checked the time on his laptop before shrugging. “Maybe she decided to run the vacuum another day, and have a lie in. And need I remind you of what befell Mycroft when he ordered her to bring him a cuppa? Something about her being a landlord not a housekeeper.”

“Yes. Yes. My brother is an idiot. We’ve established that already. And of course she is entitled to have a lie in whenever she wants, but surely your olfactory glands must tell you something?”

Watson stopped his retort and considered what Sherlock, in his roundabout way, was trying to say. Even if Mrs. Hudson had decided to sleep in this morning, it was now well past the time she popped in to bring tea or just a cheery greeting. And the last time Sherlock’s extraordinary sense of smell detected something …

The two men raced downstairs to the flat at 221A. When Mrs. Hudson did not answer the door immediately, Sherlock pulled a set of lockpicks from his inner jacket pocket.

“Uh, Sherlock. We could just use the key she gave us.”

“What would be the fun in that?“  He was swinging the front door open  before John could voice another protest.

Standing firmly inside the flat, John’s nose detected orange, nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla and pecans. 

“Watson, come here.”

He joined Sherlock in the kitchen where they looked aghast at the flour, sugar and other ingredients that had spilled onto the counters and the floor. 

“Well, mystery solved. Mrs. Hudson decided to make biscuits. Christmas ones, from the look of it.”

“But why leave this mess all over? And why hasn’t she answered?” Sherlock snagged a biscuit in the shape of a snowflake and popped it into his mouth.

“Sherlock!”

“Hmm. Not bad for a first attempt.”

“How do you know it is a first attempt?” John’s stomach overcame his conscience and he snagged a few biscuits made with pecans.

“Her iPod is open to a recipe for gingerbread men.” He tapped on the browser history. “And here are the recipes for the other biscuits. And note all the bowls and utensils in the sink. Not to mention the copious amounts of flour on the floor and countertops.”

“That just proves she’s a messy cook, not that she’s never done this before.” They both snatched a few more biscuits. “Well, then what does this scene tell you about where she’s gone?”

“Obviously since the iPad was open to the recipe on gingerbread men and since there are no men in evidence, she either ran out of, or forgot, an ingredient and jotted off to the shops .”

“Well, since there doesn’t appear to be any foul play, perhaps we should leave Mrs. Hudson to her privacy.”

Sherlock nodded, and the two men carefully locked the door behind them.

 

* * *

 

_ I can’t believe it took over an hour at the shops to get one bloody box of brown sugar. They didn’t even have the muscovado. _ She froze as she entered the kitchen.  _ Someone’s been here. _ She was positive there were more biscuits on the cooling rack. Perhaps she should fetch the boys. John could blog about it, “The Case of the Missing Biscuits.” Of course, she didn’t really need the boys to solve this mystery, as there were two very large boot-prints alongside two very much smaller shoe-prints. But maybe after she finished the gingerbread men, she’d pop around with tea. Make them squirm. 

She smiled to herself as she tuned the radio to her favourite local station, turning the volume up loud so the boys would be sure to hear it.  Yes, it was going to be an excellent Christmas.

  
  



End file.
